When Palm Trees Fall

So, recently I wrote about my Race Day Reflection as if it was some major turning point and I was 'done' with the hard part. Well, that was partially true.

Two years ago, I put in a new patio which required me to move Reid's favorite plant in the yard; the palm tree. This tree has a funny background as we had no idea how big it was going to get and quickly outgrew it's spot- right against the house. He cared for it, trimmed it up, researched palm trees in Washington state and it continued to grow.

But I had to move it and it fit it's new location perfectly. I could see it from my kitchen window, it shaded my new patio nicely and made some good whispering noise when the wind blew in it. I LOVED living with it every day. So, when it showed signs of sickness, I tried a few different things, with no luck. Finally, one day, after my race day reflection, I pushed it to see how sturdy it was. I pushed it right over. With ease, it fell to the ground. It was done. His favorite palm, my comforting shade and afternoon whispers- done. Gone. Forever. Seeing it laying there triggered emotions. But wait, I'm done with these waves, right? I closed that chapter, right?

That night, I went to my friends house (conveniently located across the street). I provided the bottle of wine and she provided the tissue box. How could this be hitting me like this 3 years into this life?! I just had this milestone and here I am like it's day 1. As always, she was completely reassuring as she drew from her, unfortunately, own extensive grief experience.

Here's the difference. I didn't stay there. It was just a quick reminder that it never goes away but it does get easier and is less frequently so disruptive. Sure, the unexpected trigger will get you but it is much easier to see it, feel it, experience it and then, walk away from it.

When palm trees fall, give yourself the grace to feel it and then get it hauled away and return to that best life you are trying to live. They want you to. 

 

Race Day Reflection

Something happened to me on Race Day that I have really struggled to put into words. Maybe it was Reid's work, maybe my Dad, maybe God, maybe none of those but it was a moving experience. Let me see if I can explain.

It was the 3rd anniversary of his last day. Typically, each day that recognizes that we are further from our life with him than we were the day before is painful. In my new life, I haven't liked this day and New Years day has become my most unfavorite holiday.

But this was different.

I started the race with audio books loaded, wireless headphones charged and ready for one of the most challenging walks I do. Less than a mile into it, the headphones were off. I had this overwhelming need to really comprehend the memories flying through my mind. To do something with them..

This was so different.

My youngest daughter learned, at 12 years old, what the uncertainty of illness can do to a family. She didn't know who was going to pick her up from school, she didn't know if Dad would be home planning dinner or if she would be doing her homework in a hospital room....again. She learned the relief of a possible answer to make her Dad all better and the heartache when he was suddenly taken from us before he could be saved. Then she learned grief. She worried constantly about how we were going to move forward. If this new life as the daughter of a single Mom meant a life full of financial struggles or if this sadness in the air would last forever. She learned this all silently as she developed the courage to talk about him months later. She was 13.

Of course I thought of all of this but my memories quickly turned to all that has become since. Her teen years cannot be defined by illness, death or loss. That is unacceptable to her Dad. She should be celebrated!! She started high school, started driving, continues to crush academics and has been voted team captain by her gymnastics peers. THIS is how she needs to be living and remembering her teen years. This is what he helped guide her to become.

My oldest learned to navigate her Dad's illness from afar while in college. While we tried to balance between protecting her and informing her when we had very few answers ourselves. She learned how he can be grilling some chicken one day and gone the next. She learned how to see him after he was gone. How to feel his presence and inhale it. She learned the challenge of leaving her family weeks later to go back to college, how to get grief support, how to maintain grades, how to maintain her car and how to do all of this without being able to call him. She was 21.

But she did it!!! She graduated from College. She spent months traveling other parts of the world. She started working, exploring, dating.......living. His death cannot define her college years. His life enriched hers tremendously and he deserves that recognition. She deserves to be celebrated.

And me. I have shared and overshared what I have learned about life, death, loss and how to live better because of it. But have I been more stuck than I realized? Maybe but I do believe that is part of the process whether it is a month, a year or a decade. But it was time to celebrate. I have come so far. I have a great relationship with my girls and the rest of my family. I turned 50 as a healthy and active person. I took my daughter to China to the same place he went to pick her up. I smile. I laugh. He would tell me "You're too great to be alone"- but I refused to have that conversation then. Maybe it's something to think about....maybe. Whatever all of "this" is, the message I got was to live right now...this very minute. Celebrate all that is good

All of this happened while it was just me in my own head for 13.1 miles. The next day I booked a camping trip with my girls- the first without him. We finished with a few days in a Sun River condo and road trip home through ghost towns. The 3 of us were amazing together- absolutely amazing. We would casually bring up his name with a smile and figure out the camping duties that were historically his to do.

I am different now.

This was the most transformative experience I've had since his last day. When his brother surprised me at the finish line, as Reid had done before, it felt like Reid was taking me across a different finish line. A change. A new way of living- a fuller way. Maybe it was just his own relief that his girls are not going to be fine but great.

I don't think I found the words to do this experience justice but I hope it can give somebody hope who is currently deep in grief. When you are ready, your mind and heart will open in some unexplainable way that will allow you to enter the next chapter of life.......when you are ready.

Race Day

This is a picture of me after the first time I walked the Fueled by Fine Wine half marathon- one of the most difficult in the country. Reid volunteered there so he could meet me at the finish line with my medal. He was crazy proud of the accomplishment and was my biggest fan. Volunteering also got him into the wine tent after the race and we love wine tents. I went on to do that race 3 more times. The last time was right when we had gotten thrown into the life of medical uncertainty. I didn't think I would ever do it it again and haven't. This is the last year of the race. It falls on the 3rd anniversary of his last day. I am meant to spend that day battling hills. Tomorrow is race day. 

As I have the previous two year, I will remember the 5am call from the hospital. I will remember the tearful good-byes our daughters said while he could still hear them. I will remember family and friends rushing to the hospital, just for one last moment with him. I will continue to be amazed that the doctor, the nurse and I, the final three in the room with him for his last breath, all share the same name. I find that to be so interesting. I will remember thanking him over and over for loving me even when I wasn't so lovable and assured him I felt the same.  I will remember them giving me his blanket, which his youngest daughter still sleeps with every day. I will remember every single detail of my darkest day ever. But I won't stay there.

I will remember him at the water station. I will remember him at the finish line. I will feel his presents with me through the whole thing because I believe more than I ever have before that it's true. I will close the Fueled by Fine Wine days.

I always refer to July 7th as his last day. There isn't really a good word for it. Maybe, starting this year, I will call it 'race day'.

The Day

We all have those dates that are triggers for us no matter how much we try to prepare. I find the dates that were just ours to be far more emotional than the major holidays. Our anniversary, kids birthdays, etc. Even when I hear that spring razor clamming is opening can spark memories because we scheduled a vacation out of that every year. There are many and they make us remember some really great times and sadness that we cannot have those anymore. 

One thing I am learning is the anniversary of his last day is an entirely different beast for several reasons. For one thing, there was nothing happy about that day. Rather than remembering something fun, our minds make us actually relive the entire day in painful detail. Additionally, it is not just a day but seems to span several depending on the circumstance. Reid's day is approaching so I start remembering his last week and how hard it was and the uncertainty of it all. Then, even after his last day passes, July 7, there is what seems like your own purgatory between his last day and his celebration of life when you are somewhere between your old life and your new life but not really in either. Then there is the celebration...another anniversary date. Then, finally, your first day in this new life- this one you don't really want to be in. 

Others will have different experiences. Maybe the flight to get to their bed side, the time between the phone call and when you could be where you needed to be, maybe you got to say 'good-bye' and maybe you didn't, maybe there was a long painful illness you had to witness or maybe something took them from you before you could comprehend the reality. 

Nothing about these memories are pleasant. I don't reflect on that time and smile. I don't want to relive it but do and can't help it. I have a plan for my last day that I hope will change this for me. We'll see. 

The anniversary of his last day is an entirely different beast. 

Happy Father's Day

Here we go....into one of those days that is part of every television commercial, email spam and radio ad. It is my first Father's day without a Father. For my daughters, it is their 3rd. For all of us, it is the first with no Father to celebrate at all. Husband, Father, Grandfather, Father-in-law.....all gone.

Wait, that's not true! They are still worthy of celebrating!!

I will go to the columbarium wall at the military cemetery to visit my dad. I will purposefully read other names as I stroll towards his niche because there is something comforting about the fact that others can read his name. I will be sad that this is where I will go see him and that instead of hugging him, I will run my fingers across carved name.....I will pause and take it all in. I will then celebrate all that he did for me. As parents, we know that our kids will lose us someday. We don't want our kids to live their lives without us in sadness. If your story worked the other way around- I simply have no words other than you kids don't want you to stay in that dark place either.

Miss me, yes, but please please don't stay there.

My husband actually had an opportunity to verbalize this when we were questioning if the next treatment was going to save him. "I'm not afraid of dying. I'm afraid of leaving you." He wasn't trying to make some profound statement with that but it stays with me. If I spend too much time in a dark sad place, I am living out his biggest fear. The thought takes my breath away.

You can still celebrate this life that is possibly only because of the Father's that enriched it. Of course, there is sadness but don't stay there.

They don't want you to.

It's OK to be Happy!

The twists and turns of your grief journey are what make yours unique. You are the only one that has your specific memories, places, songs, history that can surprise you when you least expect it or even when you most expect it. 

Our youngest turned 16 this weekend. I find the our kids' birthdays are some of those that really tug at a grieving heart. This was not the way the celebration was supposed to look. Her Dad was to show her how to drive and help her to find the courage to take this next leap in life. Her confidence isn't there no matter how hard I try- but we keep trying. 

This is her 3rd birthday in her fatherless life and I thought I would be hold my breath and guide her through it. But I didn't need to. Happiness does happen and it's OK. I started the day with a pause and I thought about how thankful I was for our 23 years because here I am, guiding this little girl through adolescence into her life as a young adult. How could I not celebrate with my whole heart?! She is thriving and who am I to think our situation is not quite good enough? The day was wonderful. We celebrated her with my family. I shot texts off to her local "dad's side of the family" with the news that she passed her drivers test. She was worth every ounce of happy and we weren't doing it without her Dad in mind. 

I listened to this speaker recently talking about how we don't move on from loss, we move forward with it.  Such an eloquent way to speak such a complicated truth. Don't listen to "it doesn't get easier". It does. It absolutely does. It's not easier because it goes away. It just get easier to move forward with the loss of him. 

We celebrated her sweet 16 and he was with us. She drives his car now and it still says EWU Dad in the back window. It gives me peace. He wants it that way. 

Happy Happy Birthday to our Sweet Girl

You Just Don't Know

I received news that a close friend lost her Dad yesterday morning. She has to navigate airports, impatient passengers and joyful travelers while she walks through this grief cloud to get to her Mother. My heart hurts for her. I think about all her Mom has to go through as I know that story well. I think about what my friend has to face, as I recently learned that lesson as well. And I think about how much she will worry about her Mom.........so many emotions. So much to do.

But the real reminder to me is that, while I am moving forward with my late husband on my mind constantly, every day somebody is just getting started. While my world is continuing, kids need to be places, bills need to be paid, maybe I am having a great day with friends or I am in a terrible hurry for something important to me....somebody, probably in my same space, their world has stopped. I remember that day, my first day "out" in the real world. I was in Safeway walking through my grief cloud getting some essentials. Everybody seemed to be moving so fast. Some were happy. Some were not. Some were in a hurry. Some were not. Their lives seemed so insignificant to me in that moment. I probably seemed extremely unfriendly to them....if I was even noticed. It was exhausting. I wanted out of there but needed to get through this milestone.

My point, I don't really know. A bit of a ramble I guess. The people in Safeway, their lives were not insignificant. If we only assume that tragedy is worth worrying about, we aren't living. I mean, we shouldn't get consumed with small stuff but if somebody is in a hurry to get to their kid's track meet, one of hundreds they have seen, it's a big deal. These life moments are a big deal. On the flip side, people are facing tragic situations all around you. You might be walking through their grief cloud. Think of that.

You just don't know what is going with people outside of their Safeway run. You don't know why those other passengers are on this flight.  I am guilty of forgetting that and don't want to. I continue to learn through all of this and try to use these reminders to improve.

Safe travels, my friend.

To Tell or not to Tell

I find it interesting that my most recent lesson on loss was about how and if to talk about Reid to those who never knew him. How do I do that without creating an awkward moment. The Burden of the Story

It's interesting because I was previously blindsided by the concept and am now anticipating it. I am overwhelmed with sadness and anger in this 4th day in this life without my Dad. I am sad about the road my Mom needs to travel. I hurt for his Mom as she has to say good-bye to her son. I am sad for my brother, my daughters, my aunts and uncles, my cousins....all of it. And I cannot help but wonder how I am going to answer the inevitable questions "How was your holiday?". People will ask about my party, which I was not able to host due to this tragedy. If I tell them the truth, they will be forced to search for words. If I answer with "It was good", I am downplaying the significance of this loss. Downplaying his impact.

It is significant.

Live it Because You Can

This is NOT my favorite picture but I am thrilled I have it. It was our last Christmas and we had a blast. We opened our home to people beyond our traditional family party and included old friends, new friends and friends of friends. We made 18 different dishes from around the world, drank good wine and had so much fun. Did we do it because it was our last holiday? Our last time to host this crazy party? No! We didn't know that, of course. Oh, there was all kinds of concern about what was going on and why he had to stop and get some blood the day before this picture but we lived the moment because it was there to live.

 I'm not going to give you the proverbial "hug your loved ones because you never know if it is the last time". No- hug your loved ones because you can! Attend events that happen ONE time a year! Laugh often.  Go to the silly ornament exchange because you can! Drive aimlessly looking at lights so your passengers very young, very old and in between can be amazed. Visit for no reason, use your phone as a phone, text just because, go for a walk with no destination in mind. Live because this moment right now is here to live. You WILL regret times wasted in hostility, I promise. But don't make avoiding regret your purpose. Don't spend your time inventing reasons to avoid people but realize the reasons you shouldn't.

The moment is now. Create happiness. Be alive. They are here right now  and those who aren't, want this for you.

Finding the Thanks in Thanksgiving

I have friend whose daughter is fighting cancer. Wow, what a dark way to start a 'finding thanks' post but hear me out. She found a fantastic story comparing cancer to being chased by a mountain lion. In that story she says "Then, you see somebody being chased by a mountain lion the size of a monster truck....." and describes how thankful you are that is NOT your mountain lion.

"You don't have to look very far to find somebody worse off than you are". Even when hope was fading, Reid would find a situation that would bring him back to that place.

Why is this perspective so moving?
1. We are inspired by people who can find light in the darkest times.
2. Gratitude is simply a better place to be.

There are plenty of hospital stays, anniversaries of this and that, health crisis' and waves of grief.. plenty of opportunities for us to experience the very normal feeling of  anger about the hand we are dealt. It's a natural place to go and sometimes we absolutely need to be in that anger and sadness....but we can't stay there. They don't want us to.

To the parents with the courageous kid fighting cancer, she doesn't want you to stay there.
To those longing for their parents, they don't want you to stay there.
Reid once told me "I'm not afraid to die. I'm afraid of leaving you.". If I stay there, I am living out his biggest fear and I cannot do that. He doesn't want me to.

Easier said than done? Yes and no.

I believe that Reid's quote and the Mountain Lion are both strategies to keep us from getting lost in the dark places. They are tools to help us find gratitude because it is a healing place we need to be. Gratitude is so important to us we have an entire day.....weekend....to dedicate to being Thankful. Of course, there is all kinds of history but really, today,  it's about thanks. We simply share food, fun, time and joy with those closest to us. Some play football- some watch it. Some go shopping- some don't. Some travel far to get there- more on that Wednesday than ANY other day. Many of us get a 4 day weekend-the only one of the entire year. We don't exchange gifts. We don't hide candy or hope for a giant bunny or a jolly man to stop by. There are no fireworks and no leprechauns. No. We give and experience thanks for each other in our own way. That's all.

This can be a challenge for those in the midst of crisis or loss but it can also be an opportunity to have a day free of the darker place. The effort is so very worth it and so are you.

Dreams

It was a flurry of dreams on this, my 28th 7th. In some ways, 28 months have gone so so fast and in other ways it is hard to believe that my life was so wonderful so long ago.

Dreams have been usually good. Usually there is comfort in his presence and I wake up thankful that I got to see him. I know- sounds crazy and.....well......I just might be. I was on a plane going home the other day and I dozed off as we were getting ready for take off. Dozed off just enough to be in dreamland and hear the jet engines at the same time. In this state, we were planning to meet at the Smokehouse Provisions when I landed so we could grab some food and a beer before heading home. It seemed so normal- as if the past 28 months without him and he previous 12 months of us fighting for his life had never happened. He had never been there before so I'll text him when I land and we can meet there.

Then, I woke up. So upset with the reality. The reality that he had never been there because it opened exactly 3 months after the world with Reid closed.  I didn't fall apart or anything. I was sitting in a less than private place to fall apart- crammed into the window seat of a sold out plane. I had never had a dream like that- like I was back in my wonderful life excited for something so trivial as a local beer and some good food and the best company only to wake up and learn the cruel truth.

It does get easier. This all gets easier. But the surprises don't go away....or at least they haven't yet.

                                         

Talk Like a Pirate Day

I think this was Reid's favorite "holiday". When he first started working for the school district, he worked in the kitchen at an elementary school. To some, that might seem like a crazy decision. The school was across the street from a fire station and that did prove to be beneficial at one point. Different story. The first group to lunch was the special needs kids - they were his favorite and he was theirs. The build up to Talk like a Pirate day got the kids so super excited. They could not wait to talk like a pirate to "Mr. Reid" and they came prepared. Reid would not disappoint as he would be in full pirate character the entire time. He loved it. It was pure innocent joy. He went on to teach high school and some of those kids went to that school and remembered him and remembered is perfect pirate laugh. And he would still be able to call them by name......in his pirate voice. 💕💕💕

Choices

17 months- you think you are done with setbacks. Wrong. They can still come and still be overwhelming.

This time, it was election day. I had taken Xia to gymanstics and went to the elementary school nearby to drop off my ballot. It was Walnut Grove elementary- the place of the heart attack in 2005. I realized I had never stepped foot in that school- the school where he left briefly and came back. I hadn’t driven by it since Reid was with me. There was something about walking into it….even if just so briefly. It just triggered emotion and the emotion didn’t seem to go away.....for a very long time. 

As I traveled through the weeks, so much has been happening. Arlo Reid was born. The Riesens have a granddaughter now. Sydney finished college. Xia had her first gymnastics meet without her Dad. We have since had 2 and they are emotional for sure. There is his birthday- today. I still have his ashes so the rest of his family cannot even go visit or bring flowers and this hurts my heart. I need to fix that. Every day and every milestone takes me further away from the time when he existed. I am not looking forward to New years- it just seem to be another step away from the world that brought me so much joy.

Even the little things- his domain name is expiring and I am not going to renew it. No more chefwebster.com- ever. For the first time in the grief journey, I would like time to stop. When everything is fresh in my mind. I have spent alot of time thinking about God or higher power or something. I have never spent so much time thinking about it and for the first time in my life, the idea of a God is the only thing that makes sense. It used to sound like silliness but now it seems like there is no explanation for the universe, the earth, how we all work together, new babies, our bodies….all of it. This doesn’t ‘just happen’. Something must be controlling this. I get very consumed with all of this.

 I continue to be consumed with his memory and with the idea he is with me. Sometimes the idea that he is truly nonexistent enters my mind and it’s simply unthinkable. I can chose to believe otherwise, I also chose to believe he steps in now and then and guides my decisions, my path, my heart.

Choices. They are there always.

Was it Sudden?

It was my first birthday without being treated like royalty as he always would do. My sister-in-law asked about the highlights of my last year-as she does at every birthday celebration. Usually, I love this conversation. Hmmm- It has been a crappy year. Worst ever. But...highlights....let’s see.

I have learned so much about myself. I have learned so much about grief. Recently somebody asked me about my necklace. I am still learning how to answer that question without the awkward shock to the asker. Her response when I told her it was my late husbands fingerprint- “Oh, was it sudden?”. The smart ass in me wanted to say “well, I guess so. I mean he was alive one minute and not the next”.

What an interesting question and why does it matter? I think in our culture it is some way to measure the level of somebody’s grief. How much do they hurt? How many times have I heard or even thought to myself “Oh, she was sick” or “it was a dangerous sport” or “they were separated”- all things to make us believe that the pain is somehow less in these situations. When Reid was sick, we always had the next thing to try, we always had hope. Never did we hear “there is nothing more we can do”. I have always been so thankful for that. I don’t know if I could have faced him having to face that level of certainty. But, wait, isn’t that easier on people? When they know and see it coming? I think my old self possibly thought that-how insensitive I must have seemed to people I adore! Let’s think that through.

Days when Reid would get news that a treatment wasn’t working or that the next option has bad side effects- that hurts.
When he was in tears “I don’t understand this. People are telling me it’s in God’s hands or that prayer works….if that is true, why does any God believe I deserve this?”. That hurts.
When he was learning he needed dialyses “Why did I survive the heart attack?”. “Oh Reid, that would have been horrible on us.”. “It would have been easier on me. This is not how I want this story to go”. Referring to suffering kidney failure……..again. That hurts.
He went to dialysis “I know why I survived the heart attack. To raise Sydney and Xia and I’m not done yet”. Fighting so hard for life you don’t have energy to live. That hurts.
Three grown men wondering why the baby brother has to go first. That hurts. Watching my 2 girls say their final good-bye much too soon in their young lives. That hurts.
Moving forward without him. That hurts.

In the final days, I remember thinking that those who lose somebody suddenly have it ‘better’. Their loved one was happy and healthy until the end. Of course, I know that is not true. Whether the loss is completely unexpected, totally expected or, in my case, somewhere in between the grief is paralyzing. I am forever changed….I am a better friend. I am in awe of the strength of those I know that have lost parents, spouses, children, friends - I never understood how amazing they are. I do now. I think I am better able to support others going through loss…..I think.

The most terrifying words I heard in my earliest darkest days in this new life was “It never gets easier”. It took my breath away. That was the final “advice” that drove me to call a therapist. Grief- a lifelong journey that changes you as you travel through it. It does get easier in the sense that I can function again. It doesn’t go away and, strangely, I don’t want it to. But carrying it gets more manageable. Some days are bad and I imagine they always will be. Good days do return. And it absolutely doesn’t matter how you got there. That’s what I learned in this year of my life. Next year, I want to keep learning and make a difference.